Disburb
by colloquialrhapsodist
Summary: Disney Plays Sburb. When Milo Thatch unearths a game that can destroy the world and make a new one, it's up to him and his ragtag group of online friends to make sense of it, while other groups go to hell around them.
1. DISBURB

**"DISBURB"**

-guardingCosmos [GC] began pestering ancientGrammarian [AG]-

AG: GC? You changed your handle again.

GC: I'm telling you

GC: You shouldn't go through with this

GC: It's bad for us all

AG: Oh. You're not GC. Augh, I should've guessed, it was kinda obvious.

AG: Oh well.

AG: You should probably stop using her acronym since it's a liiiittle misleading.

GC: It doesn't matter

GC: Stop changing the subject

GC: You've procured a copy of the game haven't you

AG: Uh, yeah.

AG: I'd say I dug it up, but you apparently already know that?

AG: You seem to know a lot about me and my friends, it's weird.

GC: You are deliberately derailing me again

GC: Can't you see

GC: I'm trying to protect you and your world from your demise

GC: It is my unfortunate duty

AG: Unfortunate? Meaning you don't want to "save our lives"?

AG: If that's what this is all about anyways but I'm not exactly inclined to believe you.

GC: That's not quite what I meant

GC: I'm trying to save you but it's difficult

GC: Especially since looking at all the facts you probably won't be saved

GC: Though "looking" is a loaded word that perhaps shouldn't be used in my case

GC: But I digress

AG: ... Yeah, you lost me.

AG: Listen, I appreciate the sentiment. Or, at least, I think I do.

AG: But I don't understand how you keep bothering me when every time we've had this conversation, I've blocked you.

AG: You're interesting, and I don't like blocking you, but it's still creepy how you know so much and I've assumed it's for the best to keep the creepy guys away.

AG: You know how it is.

GC: Actually I don't

GC: Please just listen!

AG: I'm really sorry about this man.

AG: But not today.

AG: There's too much I'm doing today, and I don't want to be distracted.

AG: Maybe I'll see you around?

GC: Wait

ancientGrammarian [AG] blocked guardingCosmos [GC]

You sigh, closing the chat log. It always pains you a bit to leave this poor guy hanging. You have no idea what he's – she's? come to think of it, you're not quite sure – harping on about all the time what with this "impending doom" nonsense, and he sure does know a lot about you and your friends, but he seems to mean well, at any rate.

But meaning well isn't enough, and today is a very important day for you and your friends. Like you told this "guardingCosmos" stranger, you've got a shit ton of important things to do today, most of which involves the unveiling of the incredible piece of history you dug up recently. Sometimes your friends laugh at you with your various archaeological finds – finding their histories dubious – but most don't, and the rest mostly refrain from doing so. It's why they're your friends, after all, among other reasons.

Well, enough dillydallying. You've got quite a few things to be getting on with!

Whoever you are.

**ancientGrammarian: Introduce yourself.**


	2. ancientGrammarian: Introduce yourself

**ancientGrammarian: Introduce yourself.**

Your name is MILO JAMES THATCH. Just Milo is fine, though. Not long ago – through a serious of complicated events – you unearthed an incredible archaeological find, a game called Disburb. You sold the rights to it to WHITMORE INCORPORATED and you recently acquired the beta copy (and some more copies) absolutely free of charge. You're trying to get your friends to play with you, but they'll need some more convincing. You guess you're the man for the job. Anyways, you do things besides (unsuccessfully) convince other people to do things. You specialize in learning DEAD LANGUAGES – heck, ANCIENT CULTURES are just really interesting to you in general! You're really NERDY, very interested in NONFICTION BOOKS and even FICTIONAL LEGENDS that you wish weren't quite so fictional. You specifically hold the legend of ATLANTIS close to your heart – though anybody you'd ever ask would classify that particular story as a bunch of horse shit. You dabble a little bit in MECHANICS, but you're pretty shit at that stuff, and generally just think you should stick to the BOOKISH stuff.

You live in an apartment ALL BY YOURSELF. Well, you also have a CAT – FLUFFY – but it's been just you ever since your grandfather died (who had been taking care of you after your parents died when you were too young to remember). That doesn't get you down, though! In fact, you've got a PICTURE OF HIM on your NIGHT STAND to cheer you up when you're feeling down. You also keep his OVERLARGE HAT around for sentimental purposes. You have plenty of BOOKCASES, PAPERS, ESSAYS, and OLD BOOKS WRITTEN IN OTHER LANGUAGES lying around to keep yourself occupied in the meantime. But you've got to start paying the bills soon.

In the meantime, there's a game to be played! You're not going to pretend you can SEE INTO THE FUTURE or anything wacky like that, but you think it's going to be one hell of a time – and by that, you hopefully mean it'll be fun, and not actual hell. Only TIME WILL TELL, but your friends better get their butts online so you can get this thing started.

Your handle is ancientGrammarian, and you speak with proper diction – and you are impeccably dorky at the same time.

What will you do?

**Milo: Contact GC to get this show on the road.**


	3. Milo: Contact GC

**Milo: Contact GC to get this show on the road.**

You ponder for a moment, briefly wondering which GC you mean. But then you laugh a little bit to yourself in a slightly embarrassed way, fully aware that you meant your friend GC, not the intriguing anonymous troll that also had the same acronym for a confusing reason. Then again, there is no reason to think that in the great wide world of PesterChum there aren't repeating acronyms. So long as the handles themselves aren't recurring, it all made sense.

You shove your overlarge glasses up the bridge of your nose as you double click on GC's name to open up a chat window with her. She doesn't presently seem to be online, but you know she'll be on any moment now; you asked her to speak to you within the next few minutes, and there is nothing to do but wait until she shows. She's pretty much one of your best friends, and of all eleven others, she's the one you want to start the game with.

-ancientGrammarian [AG] began pestering geneticallyCultivated [GC]-

AG: GC?

AG: Haha, yeah, there was no real reason to ask for you; I can clearly see you're not online. :P

AG: Oh geez, that sounded dorky!

AG: Also, I'm trying out emoticons, as you can see. Hah... yeeeeah.

You pause to lift your glasses and knead your eyes with the heel of your hand, grimacing in frustration at the embarrassing words you find yourself cranking out. You have a tendency to be pretty dorky all the time and get tongue-tied, even when your tongue isn't directly involved in the communication process. Ugh, oh well...

AG: So, uh.

AG: I'll just wait here for you, then?

AG: Okay, let me know when you're online! :)

After a moment's deliberation, you edit the smilie to make it look more like your own face.

AG: I mean, 8).

You smile, cracking your knuckles. Perfect.

Nothing left to do but wait for her response... Well, you suppose there are a few other people you can alert, now that the game's come in the mail and is sitting right there on your desk. You trust GC will take care of CG and his moody self, but you've got to get on your own moody friend, CC, sooner rather than later; you frown, remembering how apathetic she can be, and wonder briefly if she's really in on playing like she says she is. And it can't hurt to speak briefly to your other best friend, TC, and get a status report on what he might be up to.

After a moment's deliberation, you make your decision.

-ancientGrammarian [AG] began pestering covertCastaway [CC]-

AG: Hey, CC. So, I got the game.

AG: That means we're gonna play today! You excited?

CC: i'm waiting with intensely bated breath.

AG: Great!

CC: that was sarcasm.

AG: ... Oh.

AG: Well, you'll play, right?

AG: You have to.

AG: I mean, um,

AG: I really... would like you to.

CC: ...

CC: ok.

AG: Okay what?

CC: ok i'll play. geez, milo.

CC: i've got a few things to do, though, first.

CC: don't bother me until i come back.

AG: All right, all right!

AG: CC, you always seem to disappear for long periods of time.

AG: You just, I dunno, have a tendency to, like, go invisible for weeks on end.

AG: I'd like to talk to you more, you know?

CC: ... ok.

AG: Sigh. Okay what?

CC: ok, let's talk more.

CC: but like i said. i'm a little busy.

CC: ... i'll talk to you later.

-covertCastaway [CC] ceased pestering ancientGrammarian [AG]-

AG: Okay... bye...

-ancientGrammarian [AG] ceased pestering covertCastaway[CC]-

Sheesh. She's such an enigma. Must she always be so mysterious? It's a little frustrating. But you're not going to lie, you sort of like puzzles, even if said puzzles take the form of people. People puzzles. Interesting stuff.

Still, simplicity is nice, and TC is as simple as they come. You move to click on his name to start a chat log with him.

Oh, wait. Looks like you've got an incoming message.

**Milo: Answer.**


	4. Milo: Answer

**Milo: Answer.**

-glacialTutelary [GT] began pestering ancientGrammarian [AG]-

GT: hey milo

GT: whaddup

GT: you uh gettin' ready to start playing soon?

AG: Oh, hi.

AG: Um.

AG: Yeah, actually.

AG: You?

GT: yeah i've got my team together

GT: we're gonna be p cool

GT: it's gonna be so much FUN

AG: Great!

GT: well except

GT: we kinda need one more player...

AG: GT, we've been through this.

GT: i know but hear me out

GT: AC doesn't really belong with you guys anyways

GT: and what you've got a group of like eleven without him?

GT: c'mon man that's a lot you've got this game in the bag

GT: you'll totally own it you don't need him

AG: What do you mean, AC doesn't belong with us?

AG: He's our friend!

GT: pssh

AG: No, really!

AG: Okay, well, I might not be particularly close with him.

GT: uh-huh got that right specs

AG: Uh, right.

AG: Like I was saying, though I'm not close with him, CA certainly is!

AG: She absolutely insisted he be included if she's going to play with us.

GT: she's a regular fire brand that one

GT: feisty

AG: Yeah, she can be hard to handle sometimes...

GT: oh don't say it like that

GT: she's p chill

GT: but we'll take her if you don't want her

AG: Argh!

AG: GT, our friends are not just people to give away to other teams! Let them choose!

AG: How would you like it if I tried to force, say, TG to play for my team?

AG: Or you?

GT: okay okay specs you've got a point

AG: How about you just ask AC if he's okay with switching?

AG: I'd feel better if I stayed with my twelve –

AG: even numbers make the most sense to me –

AG: but if he wants to join your team, well, I won't stop him.

AG: CA might want to leave as well if that's the case.

GT: hnng

GT: but that would give us five and like you said i'm sure even numbers are best

AG: Just talk to them.

AG: And if worst comes to worst, I'm sure you'll be able to find some sixteen-year-old somewhere in the dregs of the Internet that'd be willing to be the fourth member of your team.

AG: That's how all of us met, anyways.

GT: yeah aight

GT: w/e milo you're probably right

GT: at least you're not giving me the cold shoulder like some other members of your team do

GT: ignoring me with their downright frosty demeanors like i'm not even there

AG: I'm sorry... that's unfortunate.

GT: yeah well i'm not really even their friend anyways

GT: never really belonged with them

GT: never really belonged anywhere

AG: I see.

GT: i think you mean

GT: icy

AG: Ha! Always with the cold puns...

AG: ...if you catch my drift!

GT: ha

GT: ice one

GT: aight i'm out catch you later

AG: Later.

-glacialTutelary [GT] ceased pestering ancientGrammarian [AG]-

You sigh, lifting up your glasses to rub your eyes. Little as you like to admit it, what GT said was true – your friends don't treat him very nicely. (Icely.) He can be sort of hard to handle sometimes, but so can everyone! You can't think of a single friend that's never given you a hard time before.

A while ago, you offered to let GT join your already huge team, along with his two best friends TG and CT. True, that would raise the pool of players to a highly unwise fifteen – too large PLUS it's an odd number – but GT declined all the same, finding the number to be a bit foreboding as well, and decided to just play his own game with his friends. But ever since the teams had been decided, GT's had his eyes on AC, as AC may just be his BEST friend, and also occasionally CA. Ugh. Thinking about it all gives you a headache. While you might be exceptionally gifted at mediating between two parties, there's only so much a sixteen-year-old can handle when it comes to a particularly large group of sixteen-year-olds. Most of the in-drama you tend to keep away from; you figure it's best to just let your friends choose whichever routes they desire and hope it all coincides with your grand schemes.

You pull yourself from your meditating to move to click on TC's name again, but before you can, you are interrupted by yet another incoming message. You open the chat log and smile. Oh good, it's GC; she's gotten back to you. Great! Now maybe you can start playing the game soon!

Man. Thinking about that game gets you antsy as hell. You're so excited; you hear it's going to be some sort of adventure game of epic proportions. You haven't been this excited since the time you first discovered it in those ruins!

Well. You didn't quite discover it. But that's another story.

Better see what GC has to say.

-geneticallyCultivated [GC] began pestering ancientGrammarian [AG]-

GC: milo!

GC: what adorable emoticons! i do rather like the glasses look for you.

GC: oh look, here's one of my own!

GC: :D

AG: GC! 8)

AG: Hey, you finally got back to me.

AG: Well, uh, not finally, but I mean um

AG: right on time.

AG: Yeah.

GC: *giggle* :)

GC: my goodness i can't believe it's time already!

AG: It really is, isn't it?

GC: quite!

GC: i've just been having a bother of a time attempting finagle CG into saying an outright "yes, of course i'll play with you."

GC: really, sometimes i'm not quite sure why i even waste my time!

AG: Well,

AG: why do you?

AG: Waste your time, I mean.

GC: oh dear. i mean, well,

GC: time spent with bosom friends is time not wasted, i suppose.

GC: and he is very dear to me, persnickety though he may be.

AG: I see.

You frown, a little bit unhappy with this answer. Well, CG is your friend as well, but you've never quite understood what GC saw in him that warranted such closeness. He's just another angsty teen – albeit a smart one.

GC: isn't it quite the same with CC, though?

GC: i've never been fond of her much, no offense, milo!

GC: she's the worst sort of grumpy, and she simply vanishes for ages and ages!

Ah. Of course, she brings up CC.

"Well, that's different," you start to type – but hesitate, perhaps wondering if it really is such a different situation after all.

AG: She's my friend, and she means a lot to me.

GC: i see!

GC: i'm sorry.

AG: No, no, it's okay.

AG: I wasn't exactly being kind about CG either. 8P

AG: I'm sorry, too.

GC: it's quite all right.

GC: well, enough of this topic! our churlish friends can wait.

GC: shall i begin installation?

AG: Well, actually, I've been thinking.

AG: There's been a slight change in plans.

GC: oh? how do you mean?

GC: the program works on a client/server basis, correct?

AG: Yes, that's correct.

GC: and you were going to start off as the client and i the server, and then CG was going to connect to me as my server, and then the chain would continue on in this order: CC, GA, AA, CA, AC, AT, TA, GG, and TC?

GC: that's right, isn't it?

AG: Yes.

AG: Er, well, no.

AG: We're changing things up a bit.

GC: oh? whatever for?

AG: Well, see, your acronym doppelganger found me again recently.

GC: oh no! :O

GC: he always tries to stop us from playing...

GC: but what does that have to do with anything?

AG: I figure that he knows the original order, as I let it slip to him once.

AG: Except it was on purpose, as I always had the intention of changing the order after I told him.

AG: I just figured I'd change it last minute, so when you're first testing out the game he's bothering me instead of you and not throwing off our concentration.

GC: hmm!

GC: seems more convoluted than it needs to be...

GC: but all right, what is the new order?

GC: you've insinuated that i will begin first?

AG: Yeah, that's right!

AG: And I'll be your server player.

GC: who would be next, then?

AG: I'm afraid I can't say.

AG: I've reason to believe that guardingCosmos has access to our pesterlogs.

AG: Hopefully if we start right away, he won't have time to read this log before we really begin.

GC: very well! you're the leader!

AG: Naw. That's someone else.

GC: hmm?

GC: well anyways i have one last question.

GC: who am i to connect to when the time comes?

AG: Oh, that'll be AC.

AG: But we've got a ways until then. Let's just concentrate on us now, okay?

GC: sounds lovely.

GC: let me just locate my copy of the game, and we'll be set.

GC: cheerio!

AG: Ha, yes, "cheerio." 8)

GC: 3

-geneticallyCultivated [GC] ceased pestering ancientGrammarian [AG]-

You hesitate a moment, a dull red flush creeping into your cheeks. Two quick clicks seem to echo in the silence of your room as you type two characters in response before hastily signing off.

AG: 3

-ancientGrammarian [AG] ceased pestering geneticallyCultivated [GC]-

Sheesh. Being sixteen is hard! All those hormones acting up. You like to think it doesn't get to you, but it very obviously does, in embarrassing ways. And GC sure does know how to make you feel flustered.

Whoever she is.

**GC: Introduce yourself.**


	5. GC: Introduce yourself

**GC: Introduce yourself.**

Your name is JANE PORTER. You are a self-proclaimed SCIENTIST, considering yourself to be highly knowledgeable in the art of making deductions and experiments and smoky bangs. In all reality, your FATHER is a much better scientist than you are, as you tend to be too erratic for most of your EXPERIMENTS to be successful. LIVING CREATURES – such as GORILLAS - fascinate you as well. You are quite a talented ARTIST, as you love to sketch and draw, and you're very GOOD AT IT, if you do say so yourself. You have a habit of TALKING TOO MUCH about INANE THINGS, and your BRITISH ACCENT only makes you sound more ECCENTRIC. Often you like to pretend that you're a BRAVE EXPLORER, but sometimes you talk to yourself too much and just end up SCARING YOURSELF with scary hypothetical situations.

Your room is small, but jumbled. A long, flat table's space is entirely taken up by BEAKERS filled with VARIOUS LIQUIDS, some slightly ominous-looking. Your walls are decorated in POSTERS OF THE AFRICAN JUNGLES, which sort of doesn't make sense since you're currently – temporarily – LIVING IN THE AFRICAN JUNGLES. You own a few STUFFED ANIMALS which are sitting on your hammock – oh no, not real animals, heavens no! You have a few gorilla dolls by name of TERK, KALA, and KERCHAK, and an elephant named TANTOR. An old KEN DOLL of yours sits with them, dressed in nothing but a loin cloth – he is a WILD MAN of your imagination, living in the jungles and with the gorillas, a mysterious enigma named TARZAN. He is probably your favorite doll. A CHALKBOARD takes up one corner of the room, and an EASEL another.

You're a bit of an odd girl, what with your ECCENTRICITIES and other such nonsense, serving as quite a contrast to other MAIDENS OF YOUR AGE. But you haven't been around people of your age – that is, SIXTEEN – for a while now, unless you count your INTERNET FRIENDS. They are the LIGHT OF YOUR LIFE, and you are eager to play Milo's game with them.

They can reach you at your handle, geneticallyCultivated, where you speak in a chatty, bubbly, British-y manner.

What will you do?

**Jane: An hour previously...**


	6. Jane: An hour previously

**Jane: An hour previously...**

You glance out the window. The date is December 21st, 2012, and supposedly, today is the end of the world. You don't personally believe that load of tosh; what you're more worked up about is the fact that, despite the presence of winter, the oppressive heat of the jungle makes everything feel like summer. The humidity doesn't do much for your hair, either – unless, by "much", you mean "completely ruins it."

You know your friends are in locations across the globe that allows them to experience cooler weather, and perhaps even snow! You can't remember the last time it snowed in London; the place isn't exactly famous for its blizzards.

At least it's Christmas in a few days and, in the meantime, you've got an exciting game to play that Milo's been babbling on about ever since Whitmore Inc. began distributing beta copies. Maybe even before then.

Seeking to avoid an encounter with your Daddy, you tiptoe hastily up the stairs and log onto your computer. You've got another hour before Milo said to be online, but there's no harm in checking to see if he's there or not. You boot up the computer and eagerly glance at your chat application – but, no such luck; you've got to wait out the hour.

Not many are online at the time anyhow. Bored, you wonder if there's someone for you to talk to and pass the time away painlessly. You spot TA's name and make a face. No, not her, she's too bubbly and self-centered. You nod to GA's and smile a little, wondering if you'll humor him and give him a cheerful "hello." He's on most of the time as is. Does he really have nothing else to do than sit on his computer all of the time? Well, you suppose he sleeps, as well. Only heaven's light knows with him...

Oh, CG's just signed on. Quick, before you miss him! You hastily type a greeting before an inopportune mood swing of his pulls him away from the computer again.

-geneticallyCultivated [GC] began pestering captainGunslinger [CG]—

GC: hullo!

GC: don't go anywhere quite yet, we need to talk, mister!

CG: what do you want

GC: grumpy as per usual, i see!

GC: today's the day of the game, silly!

CG: tch

GC: ... what is that supposed to mean, exactly?

CG: it means big fuckin whoop

CG: who the fuck even cares it's just a stupid game

CG: i've got better things to do

GC: like what, exactly?

GC: tinker with your odd skateboard doohickey?

GC: you COULD be playing a game with your FRIENDS, you know!

CG: it's not a skateboard "doohickey"

GC: hmph! as you so like to say, "whatever"!

CG: whatever

GC: if you had a comical bone in your body i might've taken that for a joke!

CG: god jane

CG: you don't have to be a fucking bitch

GC: ...

GC: well you don't

GC: you don't have to be so

GC: ... so MEAN!

GC: you're so rude and churlish and awful and i'm SICK OF IT!

GC: nobody else puts up with you!

GC: milo wonders why i even bother, i know he does!

GC: how does your mom...?

CG: ... how does my mom what.

You freeze, your face an ugly, blotchy red, as though you'd really been having a shouting match. You overstepped your bounds, and you know it. Shit.

GC: i...

GC: no no no no no, no, i

GC: i didn't

CG: save it.

CG: you were probably going to say something like "how does she deal with a felon OOPS I MEAN FELLOW HEEHEE I'M SO ADORABLE AND BRITISH like him"

CG: whatever

CG: i don't need this

CG: i'm outta here.

GC: NO WAIT!

CG: ...

GC: i'm sorry, all right, i really am.

GC: i crossed the line, i

GC: i just was so MAD and

GC: i'm really sorry.

CG: ...

GC: you can go now if you'd like...

CG: ... no, jane.

CG: look, i guess i'm kind of

CG: "grumpy"

CG: sometimes.

CG: just... don't take it so personally, alright?

GC: honestly? it's a little hard not to!

GC: your apathy can be pretty hurtful sometimes!

GC: it feels a little bit like misdirected rage... :/

CG: yeah, yeah, alright

CG: i'm

CG: uh

CG: ... sorry.

GC: !

CG: stop right there, if you make a joke of this...

GC: no no no, i won't.

GC: thank you for the apology, it's appreciated.

CG: whatever

GC: :P

GC: so are you going to play with us?

GC: please! i'd love you to play!

CG: yeah, okay, i'll give it a shot

GC: :O splendid! 3

GC: i'll have to tell milo asap, he's supposed to meet me online in about a half an hour...

CG: shit

GC: hmm?

CG: no not you

CG: mom

CG: gotta go

CG: i'll see you later

-captainGunslinger [CG] ceased pestering geneticallyClassical [GC]-

Hmm. You wonder what could be up? Well, CG's always had a rocky relationship with his mom for as long as you could remember. Actually, make that most people. You'd like to think you're his closest friend, but you know that's probably not the case. Still, it gives you no small bit of warm satisfaction to know he would care about you so much as to apologize to you.

You glance once more at the log of online chums. Milo's not here yet, unfortunately, leaving more time left to kill. CG's left, so that rules him out. You suppose you could pop in and say hi to GA like you debated on doing earlier, but you don't particularly feel like doing that... You wish AT was on, you wouldn't mind talking to him; he's dorky like you are, and is probably one of your closest friends.

You sigh, turning from the computer and settling yourself down by your chalkboard.

You'll end up getting lost in that drawing and be almost late to your meeting with Milo.

Let's see what the matter is with CG.

**What's up with that guy, anyway?**


	7. What's up with that guy, anyway?

**What's up with that guy, anyway?**

What's up is that your name is JAMES PLEIADES HAWKINS, except no one but your mom is allowed to call you that. You go by JIM. No one can call you JIMMY, or JIMMY JIM JIM JIMMY JIM JIM JIM JIMMY, or JIMBO. Not unless they want a heaping helping of your unbridled TEENAGE ANGST. You used to be happier – but that was before your dad left. Now you have what can only be classified as DADDY ISSUES. All you want is a MOMENT TO BE REAL, to TOUCH THINGS you don't FEEL, to HOLD ON, and feel you BELONG. Is that too much to ask? Well, since all of those things are kind of psychological anyways, you spend most of your time with your INTERESTS. You are quite the MECHANIC, building and breaking down technological things with few problems, even making your own things sometimes. You also tend to be a RECKLESS THRILL SEEKER; you like to SURF in the nearby ocean and SKATEBOARD on dry land. One day you hope to combine both of those talents to create some sort of SURFING SKATEBOARD THAT CAN FLY. Oh god. That would be so fucking awesome.

Your room is small, located on the floor above YOUR MOM'S INN, the ADMIRAL BENBOW. It's also quite messy; various TECHNOLOGICAL PARTS, TOOLS, BLUEPRINTS, and HALF-FINISHED PROJECTS are scattered about. (Also some homemade TREASURE MAPS, but those are kind of embarrassing. You like to come up with stories where you're a TREASURE HUNTING AND SWASHBUCKLING BADASS, but they're all kind of lame.) You have some cool posters of SPACE because you're kind of interested in ASTRONOMY. A PISTOL is lying on your desk; you're working on trying to program it to use PLASMA BEAMS instead of BULLETS.

You're not quite sure what everyone's DEAL is. Like, so there's this game, right? Big fucking whoop. You're not all that interested in it; sounds like it'll have a lot of MAGICAL BULLSHIT, the likes of which you care little for. Hey, somebody's gotta be the BREATH OF FRESH AIR among your freaky friends, so it might as well be you. Speaking of those freaks, they can reach you at your handle, captainGunslinger, where you speak in a simultaneously apathetic and ornery tone.

What will you do? Well, that's a stupid question! You just wasted pointless time on another pointless intro, and now your mom's really in your room! Ugh, Jane's obliviousness must be rubbing off on you. There's only one thing to do now!

**Jim: STRIFE!**


	8. Jim: STRIFE!

**Jim: STRIFE!**

You – and this time, I mean you, the reader – take a moment before reading this intense strife scene to pick out some good music. You start to head to the Homestuck Bandcamp page, thinking you'll maybe put on the usual Showtime or maybe Aggrieve or perhaps even Sunslammer; but then your Disney instincts kick in and you head to Youtube instead. In the search bar, you type in '12 Years Later,' and hit the enter button. The first result is from the Treasure Planet soundtrack. Success. You eagerly click the video, anticipating the sweet badassery of a musical narration of Jim Hawkins's angsty self – oh, but wait, this beginning's really slow, you must've forgotten. Can't have that! You skip ahead a bit to 1:20. Oh yeah. Sweet, sweet badassery. Here we go. Let's return to being Jim.

You suddenly start being yourself again, whatever that means. You give an angry shake of your head; this is no time to have an identity crisis. The door's halfway open, and your mom's already inside!

"Jim?" she says. "We need to talk."

"Not NOW, mom," you spit out through gritted teeth, debating on whether or not to tap into your PISTOLKIND STRIFE SPECIBUS. But wait, you can't shoot your mom with a pistol, even if a STRIFE calls for it!

It's too late, she's already in the room, and wielding her signature passive-aggressive TRAY OF FOOD! You ABJURE from her onslaught as she thrusts the tray at you, as if trying to get you to eat and take care of yourself and UGH YOU'RE NOT HUNGRY _MOM_

You attempt to ABSCOND, but there is nowhere to abscond to! You're already in your hideaway, you moron. Gotta try and get her out of your room so you can go back to being a grumpy teen on the Internet.

You AGGRIEVE – that is, you lunge forward and push your mom out of the room. "Get out!" you say, your usual catchphrase. She protests, fighting against you, and the two of you tussle for a moment, and you manage to push her out into the hallway – until the tray drops from her hands, clanging on the floor and dumping all the food every which way.

You freeze, staring at your mom, who looks bewildered, frustrated, and hurt all at once.

"... Jim," she says eventually, with a great, tired sigh that seems to make her older than her years. "I feel like I'm losing you. You're failing out of school, but you're so smart!" Her voice rises in her exasperation, and she throws her hands up in the air, an edge of desperation creeping into her tone. "I just don't know what to do with you anymore! Ever since your father left..."

You visibly tense up, your hands clenching and unclenching themselves into fists. But then you let out a forcible sigh through your teeth, attempting to relax yourself. It's not your mom's fault, and maybe it's time you stopped blaming her.

"... I'm sorry, Mom. I'm really trying. I am."

She looks like she doesn't believe you. If you're honest, you don't believe you either.

You step back into your room and shut the door, unable to face her anymore. After a moment, you hear the telltale sound of her starting to clean up the hallway after the mess you just made. You lock your door just to make sure she won't come in, but struggle with a gut-wrenching guilt all the same.

Your computer dings quietly behind you. Oh, you guess you've got message – or maybe a few, as you glance at the various windows that had popped up on your computer.

**Jim: Check messages.**


End file.
